


Your Name

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name. Fusion, Body Swap, F/M, Fluff, High School, Inspired by Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name., Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x koutarou bokuto | your name au]You’re a humble shrine maiden. He’s a national sports champion.Fate intertwines in strange ways.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've had the idea to use the your name story for ages, but never really settled on who. saw a photoset on tumblr of bokuto. made magic happen within the hour and hit publish. i've been sleeping on bo-kun for 6 whole years. it's the ace's time to shine!!  
> so as a disclaimer this fic will follow your name very closely, so those ideas are not and were never mine. i just hope to do justice through a re-telling of one of my favourite films :,)  
> not much bo in the first chapter as i set things up, but you're in for a ride... :-)

You woke up groggily, peeling your eyes open as your phone’s alarm blipped at you. For a moment, you lay there listening, struggling to come back into your own body. Despite having been asleep this entire time, you didn’t feel like you’d gotten any rest at all.

What a crazy dream.

That was all you knew about it; it was strange, but quickly fading. Something, somebody—you hurriedly rolled over and picked up your phone to write things down, but by the time the old piece of junk finally pulled the notes app up, you had nothing to say anymore. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but it was too late. You had forgotten.

Today was another school day. _Great_. You dragged yourself out of bed into the washroom, hoping that washing up would help you feel more awake. When you got there, you stopped dead in your tracks and stared at your reflection. What on Earth had you done in your sleep?! Your hair was ratty and awfully matted. You were going to go bald brushing this out. Gingerly, you picked at the tangled knots. Or, maybe it was…

You stormed out of the bathroom to your younger sister’s room next door, flinging open the shoji door. She was still asleep, always relying on you to be the one to wake her up instead of setting her own alarm. You tore her blanket off the futon.

“Shiori!” you yelled. She squinted up at you blearily.

“ _What_?”

“Did you do this to me?” You fumed, jabbing a finger at the dull clumps woven into your hair. She scrunched up her nose, rolling away from you.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Forgot…?” You leant back and tried to think of what you could’ve done yesterday that caused this—but then your heart dropped. 

What happened yesterday?

You must’ve just blended the memories with everything else. That was the only explanation for it. How could you have lost an entire day? Despite your attempts to reassure yourself, you felt incredibly uneasy. Shiori whined as you prodded her with your foot, attempting to get her up.

“You’re still PMSing, Sis?” she complained.

“PMSing?” you repeated incredulously. Shiori finally rose into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes groggily.

“I mean, why else would you have been so weird? It was like you were a totally different person.”

“I… I dunno,” you muttered, feeling worse and worse. You didn’t think you had your period right now. “I must’ve just been feeling weird.”

“Are you okay now?” she asked, though it was less concerned and more annoyed. “Maybe we should get Gramma to exorcise you after all.” She gave you a weird look, focusing weirdly hard on your chest. Self-consciously, you covered your boobs with your arms.

“Yeah, I think so. A-anyways, get up before mom gets mad!”

She rolled her eyes, plopping back into the futon. “’Kay.”

You went back to the washroom, your heart racing. Something happened in your memory block. Something bad? Should you see the town doctor? But there was no time—you had to get to school. You should just act normal for now. Hastily, you sprayed water into your hair, ignoring the grating noise and tears welling in your eyes as you forced the comb through. Sounds of life begun to echo around the house as Shiori finally got out of bed, whining in the kitchen about breakfast. You hurriedly pulled your hair back with your red thread and basically hopped into your uniform, staggering out to the main hall as your mother grew increasingly agitated while calling your name. 

“You need to stop eating junk food before bed!” she scolded the second you walked into the room. “I _told_ you it was unhealthy, but what do I know? Kids never listen to their mother anyways.”

Your mother was always the nagging type, and you’d already gotten used to it, but this outburst seemed particularly random. You raised your eyebrows as you sat down, Shiori already halfway through her bowl.

“I don’t eat _that_ much junk food.”

“You liar. Why else would you have been so forgetful yesterday? Sugar makes your brain rot.” She placed more fish onto your plate as you picked up your chopsticks. “You need to eat more vegetables. And get off your phone!”

You didn’t say anything else, obediently scarfing down the bitter mustard greens she kept piling onto your dish. There was something strange happening, and it was getting increasingly more apparent. You should probably talk to your grandmother after all, but she was still away. Maybe you could call after school. 

“Let’s _go_!” Shiori whined at the door, jogging on the spot as you grabbed your bag. She was always so impatient if you held her up, but never cared about making you late. You slipped your shoes on and headed out with her, calling out goodbye as you left. All this time, the uncomfortable feeling that you were missing something important never left.

Shiori at least shut up during the long trek up the mountain. The steep incline didn’t allow for idle chatter, or in her case, bothersome babbling. As the two of you walked, you allowed yourself to dwell in thought. People were saying you had been strange and unlike yourself yesterday, yet, you couldn’t even remember one thing that _had_ happened yesterday. You checked your phone screen. Today was undoubtedly August the fourteenth. You last remembered being in class, looking at August the twelfth written on the chalkboard. It was like you’d been asleep for all of August thirteenth.

“[Name]-cchi! Shiori-chan!”

You turned towards the familiar voices. Aki and Ayane rolled up beside you. You and your sister had considered getting a bike to at least make the return trip easier, but your mother didn’t trust you to steer straight with your sister on the back, and neither did you, so that had been struck down. You had to admit you were a little jealous of these two, who always came to school together. 

“Get off already,” Aki complained, looking back over his shoulder.

“Why?” Ayane whined back.

“’Cos yer’ heavy.” He looked back at you, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Anyways, [Surname], are you really sure about today?”

“Um, sure about what?”

“You forgot?!” Ayane exclaimed, bewildered. “You challenged Tora to a volleyball game at lunch today!”

You blanched. “I did _what_?!” 

“You got brain damage or something?” Aki asked, leaning forwards onto his handlebars. Ayane hopped off the bike to touch your forehead.

“She’s been weird all day,” Shiori announced proudly, butting into the conversation. “It’s like she doesn’t remember anything from yesterday.”

“Shiori, shut up.”

She stuck her tongue out defiantly. “Don’t you remember what you did last morning?”

“Uh… well…”

“You were touching your boobs! And you didn’t wake me up, so mom got mad! _Also_ , you kept talkin’ like you were a city slicker. How could you forget?!” she listed off. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment as Aki and Ayane looked over at you strangely. With a light touch you flicked your sister in the forehead and begun to march away.

“Shut up, I said!”

“Seriously, [Name]-cchi, are you feeling okay? You _were_ actin’ different yesterday.” Ayane caught up to you and whispered in your ear concernedly. You shook your head, trying to smile.

“I’m fine.” 

_I have to be… right?_

You got to school. Shiori had split off on the path to go to the elementary. You accompanied Aki and Ayane to the bike rack, but people kept giving you weird looks as you walked past them. 

“Oi, [Surname],” somebody shouted crossly. You flinched and reluctantly turned towards them. Toramatsu Naoe scowled back at you.

“Naoe-kun.”

“I hope ya’ haven’t forgotten our promise.”

 _This is starting to be a recurrent theme._ But what could you say? That you had in fact forgotten entirely and had no idea what this promise was even meant to be? Who would believe you? _You_ barely believed you right now. 

“Leave her alone, Ahou-ne.” Ayane stepped in front of you protectively. “Just because she showed you up yesterday don’t mean you get to keep harassing her.”

Showed him up? Your brain felt like it was going up into flames trying to process everything. What had she said earlier… you’d challenged Naoe to a volleyball match, apparently. He was the classroom jock, always bragging about his athleticism. You didn’t give a rat’s ass. It wasn’t like you were particularly gifted in any sports yourself, and you were the type to only perform the bare minimum in phys ed. The only time you ever talked to Naoe was when you had to. You didn’t have any feelings about him one way or the other, but it was obvious he hated your guts right now. 

“Hey, she basically begged _me_ to play with _her_ ,” Naoe sneered. He gave you a haughty look. “Don’t be late.” With that vaguely weak threat, he stalked away, re-absorbed into his group of fellow jock-lings. You gaped after him as he went.

“He’s just scared he’ll lose again,” Aki deduced thoughtfully with a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, you’ve been hiding those insane volleyball skills. I had no idea you even played.”

“Um, Yane-chan,” you whispered frantically, wrenching on your friend’s sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh—uh, see you later, Aki. Girl business!” she chirped immediately, taking your hand and hurrying towards the direction of the girls’ washrooms. You checked for feet in the stalls and slumped after confirming you were alone.

“You have to help me. Something’s wrong.”

You explained how you’d come to realize you had a day-long memory gap, and that the last thing you could remember was going to bed two days ago. Ayane listened attentively. As your childhood best friend, she was the only one you thought you could trust with this right now. Shiori would call you a freak and you were nowhere near close enough with your mother to discuss something as insane as this. Your grandmother wouldn’t be back until next week. And Aki didn’t seem like he’d believe you.

“Maybe you hit your head,” Ayane mused, pressing her thumb to her lip. “You’ve heard of those cases, right? Where somebody gets a concussion and has a new personality? It could explain the amnesia, too.”

“Maybe. I feel fine.” You touched your scalp, feeling no aches or pains. “But what do I do about what I did yesterday? I have no idea what happened, and now I have to go play volleyball with _Naoe_? I don’t even know how to play volleyball!”

“You don’t? But you were an expert yesterday.”

“I’m telling you, whoever it was yesterday wasn’t _me_!”

She reached out and grabbed you by the shoulders. “Calm down, [Name]-cchi. I believe you. We just have to work through it, okay?”

You nodded, feeling tears prick behind your eyes. You were lost. Frustrated. You’re just a high school senior—you should be getting ready to graduate and hop this small town. Not worry about some mysterious psychological condition. Ayane gave you a comforting squeeze.

“Hey, how about this. If you become yer’ other self again, I’ll know, and I’ll tell you everything that happened when you come back to your real self. That way you’ll at least get an update on what happened when you’re blacked out.”

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course I would! I’m your best friend!” She swept you in for a tight hug that you appreciated beyond words. Then she pulled back, looking distracted. “But Tora totally thinks you’re going to verse him later today.”

“I-I thought you couldn’t play volleyball one-on-one.”

“You forgot, huh… you asked Yamato-kun to be your teammate.”

“No way… ugh, what the hell am I doing?” You buried your face in your hands. Yamato Mizushita—the guy you’ve secretly had a crush on for the past… I dunno, ever-since-he-smiled-at-you-in-kindergarten years? You shook your head miserably. “I need a code-name for the other me. I can’t keep calling her ‘me’ when she does stuff like this.”

“Like Jekyll and Hyde!” she gasped a bit too enthusiastically.

“Then I’ll call my other self ‘Haido’.” 

“Isn’t ‘hai’ two in another language? I thought we learnt about it… you’re a real pun-master, ain’t ya’?”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped. “What do I do about this match at lunchtime?”

“I guess you’ll just have to do yer’ best.”

“If I do my best, I’ll embarrass myself in front of Mizushita-kun! Can’t I just say I’m not feeling well?”

“You know how Tora-chan is. He’d never let it go.”

“Maybe I can delay it until Haido comes back. If. I hope not. Ah… why is this so hard…”

“There, there.” Ayane crouched with you and patted your back comfortingly. “It’ll all work out.”

“You think so?” you asked dejectedly. She puffed out her chest proudly.

“I _know_ so!”

You had forgotten Ayane does very poorly in school and doesn’t really know a whole lot after all.

It’s finally lunchtime. You’ve been sweating bullets all morning. Apparently Haido had caused a ruckus for your homeroom teacher, too, and Sanada-sensei seemed very unimpressed with you for reasons you’d never know. Mizushita came by your desk despite your desperate prayers that he too had forgotten all about yesterday.

“Hey, [Name]-san. Do you want to warm up together?”

“Um. Okay, sure.” It felt like a total out of body experience. It was like all your dreams were coming true in the worst possible ways. Mizushita smiled kindly at you.

“I never knew you were so good at volleyball. You should’ve tried out for our team earlier!”

The two of you walked with gym clothes in your arms. You gulped, your mouth uncomfortably dry.

“Ha ha… yeah…”

The game plan you and Ayane spun up was to “sprain” your ankle the second the game started. It was a pathetically last-ditch effort, but you just had to hope that in the case Haido made a re-appearance, she would actually settle things and not leave you with a mess to clean up again. 

“You okay?” Mizushita asked all of the sudden. You blinked, realizing you’d already made it to the changerooms. He studied your face closely and you froze up, not used to having boys being this close to you. “You keep sighin’.”

“I-I’m fine!” you squeaked awkwardly. “G-guess I’m just nervous since Naoe-kun is really good at sports, y’know?”

“Well, yeah. So he says.” He laughed easy-goingly and plopped a huge hand on the top of your head. “It’s fine, though. The way you are, there’s no way he’d win.”

 _I am so sorry,_ you pleaded to him in your head as he walked towards the guys’ changeroom. _Please don’t think less of me after this._

Ayane was already outside, seeming to be arguing with Naoe. He spotted you walking up with Mizushita and pushed Ayane aside.

“There you are. I hope you’re ready for our re-match. I’m going to crush you and make you wish you’d never been—”

“Now, now. Let’s have good sportsmanship, Toramatsu-san,” Mizushita interjected calmly. He looked down at you with that goofy grin you loved, and you had to pretend not to notice. This was the most attention he’d given you all year, and it was for _this_?

“Whatever. I got Kougami-sensei to act as ref. First to two sets.” He turned around and marched off with the dirty ball under his arm. Once again you felt a hand plant in your hair and jumped, turning back to Mizushita.

“Don’t look so worried!” he said cheerfully, giving you a thumbs up. “We’ve got this! Just show him one of those wicked crosses you’ve got, yeah?”

“Like…?” You made a hesitant cross over your chest. He should’ve known you weren’t a Catholic. Mizushita stared at you blankly and you knew with cold dread that you had gravely misunderstood. He cracked a grin, thankfully, but you still felt like dropping off the face of the Earth.

“You’re hilarious, [Name]-san.” 

A whistle blew shrilly, and you turned back to the court. The school didn’t have a real sand pit or anything, so court lines were scraped into the dirt. The volleyball net was made from repurposed soccer posts and fishing equipment. Kougami-sensei was the physical education teacher who also taught science. Looking good-natured, he beckoned for you and Naoe to walk up.

“Two sets of twenty-one points and a third of fifteen. The team who takes two sets win. Any questions?”

“Um—” you began desperately, but Naoe grunted a ‘no’, and the game was on. You felt your heart pounding through your chest. It was like the entire school had come by to watch you. Even the first years were here for whatever reason, whispering and pointing at you. What had Haido even been up to? Oh, what you’d give to know.

“Service!” Naoe called. He threw the ball up into the air. Your heart sank. He was making eye contact with you.

“Get ready for the receive!” Mizushita said from behind. “It’s gonna be short!”

Short? How short? Wait—you didn’t even know how to receive the ball. You just knew you weren’t supposed to catch it like a baseball. Not that volleyball is similar to baseball… right? Naoe hit the ball with an elastic, violent _bang_ that shocked you to your core. If you touched that, your arms were going to fall off! Not even the gods would help you! You stepped to the side, cowering, hands protectively caged over your face. The whistle should’ve blown for his point, but instead you heard amazed croons go around the crowd. Re-opening your eyes, you looked down at Mizushita, who was suddenly on all fours.

“Connect!” he shouted at you. You looked up and saw the ball falling back down towards you. How had he gotten the ball up? It wasn’t like you could run away when he was begging you to run for it, so with great reluctance, you jogged underneath the ball and tried hitting it up with your arms. It should’ve gone straight up, but somehow it managed to shoot off at an angle like it had a mind of its own. Your forearms stung angrily.

“Sorry!” you apologized hastily. Mizushita scrambled to his feet and leapt after the ball. He somehow managed to get a handle on it, lofting it over the net. Naoe’s teammate dug the ball into the air with an accuracy you were immediately jealous of. Naoe was jumping up into the air again. Wait, he’s jumping? Why?! Just hit the ball like a normal person, Naoe!

“Receive, [Name]-san!” Mizushita called at you, now at the front. You felt so sorry for him to have you as a teammate. Everybody seemed to be expecting great talents from you, but that was up to Haido, not [Name]. You’d watched the other guy receive the ball by squatting and extending his hands in front of him. You mimicked the stance, waiting for the impact of Naoe’s spike—and sure enough, it hit you. Square in the face.

_“…Bokuto-san.”_

You woke up groggily.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bokuto-san!” the faraway voice called once again. You picked yourself up out of bed and looked around groggily.

This… was not your house.

The doorbell chimed, nearly making you jump out of your skin. This must be one of those crazy lucid dreams you read about online. It certainly felt scarily real. But whoever was outside seemed to be very upset and refused to lay off, hitting the bell over and over again before switching to aggressive knocks. Scrambling to your feet, you got out of the unfamiliar bed, but immediately tripped and fell. 

“Ow,” you groaned, before pausing in fear. Since when has your voice been this low?

You hopped to your feet and staggered around wildly. Mirror. Phone. Anything. The person at the door could wait, even if it seemed like they were dying out there. You saw the toilet and ran into the washroom, flicking on the lights. Your reflection stared back at you. 

Who. The. Heck. Is. This. 

_Boy_?!

You wanted to scream, but it’d just be deafened by the doorbell anyways. Who in the name of the heavens wants you—or whoever’s body this is—so badly? You looked down at your—his—body, weirdly lanky and muscular, and stuffed your anguished cries deep into your chest. No. It’s just a bad dream. That’s all! Once you solve everything that’s going on, you’ll get to wake up. Right? That must be how it works. In any case, you’re—he’s—wearing shorts and a shirt, so you crept down the stairs to the front door.

“H-hello?” you stammered meekly, afraid the person might be a loan shark or something. He looked to be an ordinary high schooler, hand still hanging in the air with the motion of knocking. He was strikingly attractive with curly dark hair and sea-green eyes. He must be tall, too, but in this body, it didn’t seem too strange. 

“Bokuto-san!” he chided, sounding equal parts relieved and annoyed. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.”

“Oh… sorry.” This guy’s name must be Bokuto. 

“You’re going to be late,” he continued impatiently. “Aren’t you ready yet?”

“N-no, um. Let me change.”

“Uh… okay.” The guy looked taken aback. You realized you’d used feminine pronouns by force of habit and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Be right back!” Quickly slamming the door shut, you heaved a sigh. Looks like you had to go to school before this nightmare would end.

You found the uniform strewn onto the floor in a messy heap. This Bokuto guy wasn’t keen on organization, it seemed. You wanted to cry shimmying into the uniform, worried it’d stink of man-sweat, but it was clean if not heavily wrinkled. You hunted the room for a schoolbag and found everything a high schooler would need in it—messy notes, free-floating pens, and, most importantly, the phone. You picked up the Samsung. It was so… fancy. Your shoddy iPhone 4 couldn’t hope to compare.

“Bokuto-san!” the boy downstairs called desperately. You winced and shoved everything into the zipper pockets. You’d figure it out there.

“What happened?” the dark-haired boy asked when you finally got downstairs. You’d found a key in the outermost pocket and used it to lock the door behind you with success. “You don’t normally oversleep like this.”

“I guess I must be tired,” you said, being sure to use the more masculine ‘I’ this time around. The boy shrugged.

“Don’t overwork yourself at practice. Just because Nationals are coming up doesn’t mean you should push yourself until exhaustion.”

_Nationals?_ National what? But it’d probably be weird to ask, so you pretended to understand and nodded insightfully.

“I won’t.”

“And, another thing…” The boy gave you a wary glance. “I know we’re running late, but I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

“What?” You touched the bangs that kept flopping into your eyes. “Uh… yeah, I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer since I felt bad.”

“…okay.” He frowned but seemed to accept your answer. “Let’s hurry. We already missed the first bell.”

You meant to follow closely, but you couldn’t help gawking at your surroundings. The further you left the suburbs, the more unfamiliar the terrain gets. The mountains have vanished, and in their place lie huge skyscrapers. Cars bustle, and people walk with unnaturally quick pacing. This is a big city, a _huge_ city, and it is for sure _nowhere_ close to home.

Bokuto-san apparently goes to a highschool called Fukurodani. The other boy jogged with you through the gate before waving goodbye.

“See you at practice.”

“Wait!”

He stopped, brow furrowed with clear urgency. “Yeah?”

“I—we aren’t in the same class?”

“I’m a second year…” He trailed off before shaking his head. “You must’ve gotten confused since you’re still tired. But your homeroom’s 3-1.”

“Oh, yeah. Oops. My bad. Uh… see you!”

He never told you his name. You supposed he should have no reason to if he and Bokuto were already friends. He hurried off and you sighed, looking up at the school. 3-1… you’d just have to look around for it. 

As you walked around, you took the phone back out to try and fiddle with it. It had a fingerprint lock, thank goodness, so you were able to get in without needing a password. There was a picture of a bunch of people as the lockscreen. You saw your recent companion crouched, smiling peacefully, and beside him was Bokuto. At least, you think, judging from the features you glimpsed in the mirror. 

You felt bad for snooping, but you had to use your resources to get back home. The weather app read 26 degrees, Tokyo. _Tokyo_. You’re definitely a long ways away from home, but you couldn’t help but feel excited. Tokyo was where you wanted to go after graduation. Maybe this weird dream is a subconscious way for you to live that life. You tapped into the text bubble next. Bokuto had over 20 missed calls from one person, ‘Keiji Akaashi’. You recognized him in the profile picture, which was a blurry candid shot of this Akaashi person mid-sentence. That was one mystery solved.

The other texts were between him and his friends, you presumed. There wasn’t much to be gleaned from scrolling through, and you tried to do so as briefly as possible to maintain some semblance of privacy. Maybe photos or notes would have something useful. But before you could get to the app, somebody shouted at you from down the hall.

“Bokuto-san!” A class rep scolded, the armband particularly noticeable on his shoulder. “What are you doing wandering around without a hall pass?”

“I… uh, got lost.” You didn’t have enough time to think of a plausible answer and spat out the truth. The other boy blinked before rolling his eyes.

“God, you’re always so scatterbrained. Your homeroom is on the first floor, not the second.”

“O-oh, yeah, whoops! Y’know me… always scatterbrained.” Ducking your head, you rushed past him to the stairwell. You didn’t catch the weird look he gave you.

“‘Atashi’? What’s up with him today?”

It was grueling work to finally get to homeroom and be lectured in front of the class. Akaashi had mentioned something about Bokuto’s hair, and you wished you’d done it the way he had in his lock screen, because _everybody_ kept staring. You had no idea how this guy defied the forces of gravity, but he was obviously popular enough to garner people’s attention.

You hid his phone behind a textbook and kept scrolling. Pinching your arms hurt. A lot. But there was no other explanation for why you’d be controlling the body of some Tokyo boy. His photos were mostly of his friends, and as you looked through, you felt your heart warming towards this Bokuto guy. No wonder he seemed to be the star of attention. You wondered what it’d be like to be popular, in a place nobody knows you. At home, you’re the shrine girl. Always have, always would be. Your life was scripted the day you entered the world. It was nice to be somebody else—somebody _new_ for a change.

“Bokuto-kun? Can you come solve this?”

You remembered that the person being called on was you awkwardly late, but hastily got up. The person in front of you snickered maliciously.

“As if he could solve it. Why bother asking?”

Your brow twitched. That wasn’t very nice. Maybe this Bokuto guy wasn’t a studier—didn’t seem like it, judging from the panicked disarray his notes were in. You surveyed the board and felt relieved that you had covered this unit just a few months ago in your own class. You and Bokuto were both high school seniors, and the curriculum didn’t seem to be that different. Taking the chalk, you worked out the steps with ease. There felt to be an intense pressure on your back. Finishing up, you placed the chalk down and clapped the dust off your hands.

“Th-that’s correct,” the teacher stammered, also looking shocked. “Well done, Bokuto-kun.”

“Thanks.”

You went back to your desk. Maybe you could start helping this Bokuto guy out. If he was even real, that is. Still, if he was, he’d probably appreciate coming back to helpful notes. Maybe helping him out was the key to get you closer to your home? You turned the phone off and took out a pencil, bowing your head in the hopes that it would help distract you from the staring.

School ended. You packed the notebook away, pleased with the neatness you’d managed with even with these oddly big man-hands. You didn’t manage to get everything put away before somebody came by your desk.

“Bokuto-kun, did you become a genius over night?”

The girl had cinnamon toned hair and eyes and looked to be familiar with you—him. You laughed sheepishly.

“I, uh, started studying.”

“ _You_? Jeez… now pigs are gonna fly. Maybe this our lucky sign to win Nationals, though, if even you can solve a trig question.”

Nationals this, Nationals that. It sounded awfully important. You wished you’d checked his phone through more thoroughly when you had the chance.

“C’mon, let’s get to practice. I’m sure Akaashi-kun has been dying to set to you.”

Set. That sounded familiar. Not a football term, nor a tennis term—oh! _Volleyball_!

You started to recognize faces from pictures in the changeroom as they greeted you. Each of them commented on Bokuto’s flattened hair with expressions ranging from shock to impressed. Note to self: if you ever end up as Bokuto again, you have to do his hair, even if it is strange. You tried not to blush as they crowded you, shirtless and pantless. You’re a guy. These are just your bros. And this is just a dream… but it still feels too real.

Akaashi walked up to you when you made it out of the changeroom. This scenario was feeling awfully familiar. Shoes squeaked on the laminated floor, and the ceiling of the gym was sky high. You hadn’t been in a building this modern since your last trip to Tokyo as a kid.

“Bokuto-san, how are you feeling?”

He was obviously the fretful, neurotic type. Judging from what you’ve learnt about Bokuto, you felt sorry for Akaashi, but you were happy to see a somewhat familiar face.

“A little weird,” you admitted, figuring that nobody would believe you if you pretended you were fine. Akaashi frowned.

“Are you getting sick?”

“Maybe,” you agreed, deciding that would be a good excuse. “I mean, my head’s all jumbled up.”

“Bokuto-san!” he sighed exasperatedly. “I told you not to sleep with your hair wet.”

_What a motherly guy,_ you thought to yourself warmly. You scratched your head bashfully.

“A-anyways, I don’t think I can practice today.”

“Aw, shucks—Emo Bokuto already? What even happened, dude?”

One of the other guys clapped an arm over your shoulders, peering into your face disappointedly. You fought the urge to step back. “Emo Bokuto”? Was he like this often enough to warrant a title?

“He’s not feeling well, Konoha-san.” Akaashi, bless his soul, covered for you without you needing to ask. Konoha frowned.

“C’mon, Ace. We need you!” He clapped his hands together in prayer. “Desperately!”

Bokuto-san was sounding very important. You didn’t want to be around in his body while he was at this National volleyball tournament. Something struck you, all of the sudden—volleyball?

“Hey, uh.” You turned to ‘Konoha’, who’d dropped his arm. “You’d say I’m pretty good at volleyball, right?”

“Is this a trick question?” The sandy-haired boy looked to Akaashi for something that seemed like confirmation. Akaashi nodded firmly.

“One of the best,” he answered resolutely. “You’re one of top five aces in the country.”

_Holy._ But if that was true, then maybe Haido wasn’t a ‘she’, but rather…

“I think I’m going to go home,” you blurted out. “My stomach hurts. Um… bye!”

“Wait, Bokuto-san—!”

Sorry Akaashi, but this doesn’t concern you. You bailed and ran for your stuff, not even bothering to change back into uniform. You barely remembered the way home since you were distracted on the way here, but luckily, Bokuto had saved his house in Google Maps, and you were able to follow the nav. 

“Oh, Koutarou? What are you doing home so early?”

“Can’t talk, gotta… uh, take a dump!” You barrelled past the woman that must be his mother and raced upstairs, locking yourself back into his room. Despite all that running, you weren’t breathing as hard as usual. It made sense. You were inhabiting the body of an athlete.

What if this _wasn’t_ a dream? What if while you were here in Tokyo, Bokuto was there in Itomori? Your head was spinning, but as crazy as it was, it actually made sense. The memory blocks. Your sudden talent in volleyball and penchant for mischief.

You whipped out the notebook you’d left your handwriting in. At the bottom of the page, you wrote your phone number. **Call me.** If you were right, and this was really happening, then you’d get a call. You had to, right? Scrambling with his phone, you mumbled his phone number out loud until it was engrained in your head. For some reason, it felt like you didn’t have any more time now that you’dmade this realization. 

You staggered to the bed and lay back in it, holding his phone to your chest. Maybe you should try calling your cell phone right now? But then, if you did that, what would happen? You believed in the supernatural enough—you had to, being a member of the shrine—but even this was beyond you. No. You’d just wait and see if you were crazy.

You shouldn’t have even been sleepy after all that adrenaline, but the crash took hold of you. Your eyelids grew heavy. With one last squeeze around his phone, you hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> deltachye.tumblr.com


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